Card exercised the hand he wore the hardened leather glove on, gladly preferring the stiffness in his hand to the sharpness of the falcon’s claws. He tossed the arm high, releasing the bird into the autumn sky. A bitter wind rustled the changing leaves, playing with them as they fell to the ground. The promise of winter was in the whisper of the chill wind, but the sun was brilliant above him, easily seen through the thinning canopy of the trees. Beyond their peaks, he could see the falcon soaring freely. It was quiet out here away from people and traffic, a perfect place for his type of work.

He first found the falcon about a month ago, just off of a nature trail, and he thought it very strange to see this type of bird in the coastal plains of Georgia. He had the size and morphology of a gryfalcon, an arctic or alpine tundra breed of falcon, but also exhibited the traits of a peregrine, which was a species reintroduced to the area by conservationists. The bird had a broken wing and was hopping in circles until it saw him.  The raptor was injured, and had it been a wild creature it would have avoided him at all cost. Oddly enough, however, it had come straight to him. He could only assume that the injured falcon was a lost or abandoned hybrid, possibly even glove-trained.  As a forestry professor at Bowers Community College, he had taken the bird in for rehabilitation. After a month and a half of care, the raptor’s wing was showing great progress. Now Card was in his favorite spot in the woods, allowing the falcon to test its abilities.

There were not many animals left in these woods, but the few that remained were hard at work getting ready for the coming frost. As the birds passed by on their steady trip southward, he watched a squirrel busy with acorn gathering, finding and then hiding them away in a nearby hollow tree trunk. The falcon also watched the squirrel closely from above, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Card sat back with his notepad and pressed the pencil to paper, making notes to himself that weren’t really necessary. His memory had always been amazingly good, but he still thought it helped to put something to paper to see the whole picture. And so he quietly watched the falcon with the healing wing and wondered what more he could possibly do to help it.

The falcon dove in an attempt to catch its prey, but held back at the last moment, stumbling as he spread his wings to break the dive. The squirrel used the opportunity to escape certain death by running into a hole too small for the hapless falcon. The bird flew to a fallen limb and rested his healing wing. Card noted this and imagined the creature crestfallen. The bird’s soreness was apparent as he shimmied across the branch, favoring his left wing. Card decided that the falcon still needed a little more time and exercise to be completely up to par.

“Oh, well. Looks like lab rats for dinner again tonight, my friend,” Card said to the bird under his breath as he held out his well-protected forearm. The luckless falcon gave the bothersome forestry teacher a reproachful glare from one of his golden eyes, or at least that is how Card interpreted the bird’s stare and refusal to fly to him. Animals, Card knew, sometimes acted more human than most humans.

He took back the proffered arm and rubbed the back of his short-cropped head. It still felt strange not to have the long hair that he had let grow untamed for the past year. He hadn’t planned on cutting it until a fellow teacher commented on how wild his dark brown hair was starting to look. Perhaps he was going wild, Card thought. So what? It wasn’t like he had a reason to dress up anymore. Animals aren’t impressed by a suit and tie. Card smiled at the falcon as he preened his mottled feathers. “And who do you have to impress?” The bird looked up from its preoccupation and gave Card what he deemed a surveying once over, head to toe. “Yes, I mean you, you narcissistic little thing.”

Card stood and turned at the soft sound of feet approaching up the well-worn path. Leaves crunched under the feet of the visitor despite her best efforts not to make a sound. “Class over already, Brianna?” Card called out, and then he whistled at his recovering patient, who flew grudgingly to the presented glove. A short woman with curly blond hair pushed her way through the thin trees and bushes that separated the trail from the clearing.

“Ah, there you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she jovially replied, watching Card as he opened the door to the pet carrier. “And how is our fine feathered friend doing today, Dr. Doolittle? And don’t think I didn’t hear you talking to that bird of yours.”

Card chuckled as he put the falcon into its temporary prison. “He’s doing good, but still being too careful. He’ll be getting a delicious cuisine of mice tonight, though.” He clasped the catch shut then stood up.

“Too bad he’s not completely healed yet. He is a beautiful creature. Have you given him a name yet?”

It was like her to ask such questions. Card supposed it was in the job description for a history professor to be inquisitive, and Brianna was certainly of a very inquisitive nature. He had gotten her the position at Bowers, knowing that it would suit her well while she sought her doctorate. She was the closest thing to family that he had. Both were orphans and had even shared the same foster home once long ago. They had been told before that they were like day and night: Card was tall with dark hair and an austere outlook and Brianna was short and fair colored with a rather easy going perspective on life. Despite their differences, they had still adopted each other as siblings. Card picked up the carrier and began walking back to his truck, answering her question as he did. “No, I don’t usually name the animals I take care of. Sometimes the students do, but I think they’ve been too busy studying for their finals.”

            “You’ve had him for over a month already, haven’t you? Why don’t you just go ahead and name him, yourself? Save the kids some time, and give me a name to put with that face,” Brianna replied as she tried with a little bit of difficulty to keep up with Card. “And slow down a little, while you’re at it.”

            “Ha, ha! If you are going to be that insistent, I will. Let’s see” he consented, looking down thoughtfully at the caged raptor. A month ago, he had been covered in mud and his feathers had been ruffled in almost every direction. Now, after being cleaned and cared for, he was a nice looking bird. Gold and silver hues dotted the grey motley of the rest of his feathers.  As they walked, Card’s thoughts wandered to the bird’s quiet intelligence and his definite sense of stubborn personality.

“I am so relieved to finally have all of those finals graded,” Brianna intervened, never being one to let a space of more than two minutes go unused. “How are yours going?”

“Zephyr,” Card answered suddenly, throwing Brianna off track.

She answered in confusion, “What?”

“His name is Zephyr,” He clarified.

Brianna puzzled over this for a second. “Oh, the name. Odd name for a bird though isn’t it? Why ‘Zephyr’?”

Card smiled. “It’s the name of the west wind. I think that any bird would love to be named after the wind.” They reached the end of the path and walked on to the parking lot. “Besides, it just seemed to fit him.”

Brianna laughed. “That is very poetic. I think we might be able to do something with you after all.” She teased, and shrugged, “I would have named him Merlin, though.”

Card stopped next to his truck and opened the door. “I see nothing wrong with the name I picked, and he is too large to be a merlin. I think he’s a mix of gyrfalcon and peregrine.” Zephyr trilled in his cage. Card laughed. “See, he likes the name I gave him better.”

“That’s only because he’s a silly bird. And I said Merlin, as in the wizard. Not the type of bird,” the she replied. She held the truck door open so that Card could load Zephyr into the passenger seat.

“Tell you what,” Card announced, making his way around to the driver’s seat, “You can come with me for a beer and some pool, and I’ll let you complain all you like. But for now let me take the falcon…”

“Zephyr…,” Brianna interrupted.

“…Zephyr, back to his pen at the university. That way I can at least give my ears a few moments rest from you teasing me.”

She smiled. “That’s what little sisters are for, right?”

 

The phone rang, waking Card from yet another unsettling dream. It was always the same: a woman was standing on the other side of a dark chasm, calling out for him, but he couldn’t reach her. He’d had similar dreams ever since he was little, but it had been his mother when he was younger. Now the woman was younger, with long auburn hair that looked warm to the touch. He knew she needed him, but she was always beyond his reach, buried deep in the swallowing darkness beyond the chasm. The phone rang again, reminding him that the woman, along with the danger to her, was not real. His head was pounding from the night before. Drinking with Brianna was hazardous at best. She could drink any man under the table, any day of the week. He picked up the receiver and groggily mouthed a greeting. “’Ello?”

“Andrew! Were you asleep? It’s four in the afternoon!” the elderly voice berated. He hated his first name. The sisters of St. Catherine’s Home for Boys were the only ones who still insisted on calling him by his first name. He felt that they did it out of spite.

He recognized that chastisement right away. “Oh, hello, Sister Margaret,” he answered, sitting up on the couch that he has passed out on and stretching out his stiff muscles.  “How are you doing?”

“Fine, dear, fine. Enough chitchat though,” the Sister answered with the sound of anticipation in her voice.  “Someone has just come to our doorstep that I think you may want to meet. You might want to come down to St. Catherine’s as soon as possible.”

He yawned away from the phone. He looked at it for a moment calculating his choices. He didn’t look forward to returning to St. Catherine’s, especially since he had left the Catholic Church as soon as he could after gaining his independence at eighteen. The sisters called every now and then to check on him and to beg for his immortal soul. He sighed. “Who is it? Could they meet me somewhere else?”

“Well, he showed up here a little while ago looking for a young man and his mother who had gone missing about twenty five years ago.” She answered his first question, completely ignoring the second. “His description fit you and your mother, God rest her soul, almost to a tee.”

Card remained silent. He didn’t know what to say. There were very few possibilities as to what this could pertain to. He had always had the feeling that his mother was running from something when he was younger. If she’d had friends or family to turn to, she never would have brought him to Saint Catherine’s. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to deal with it at the moment, especially since going back to the Catholic Boy’s Home would incite a nun-frenzy.

“Oh, and dear? He says he was sent by your father.” She added, putting the proverbial carrot before the horse.

Card was silent. He remembered his mother, but he had never heard a word about his father before. Hearing the phrase “your father” when not prefaced by “heavenly” sounded unnaturally wrong. He was orphaned when he was three, and now, twenty five years later, someone had tracked him down for his supposed father? He clenched his jaw. “I’ll be there in half an hour,” he replied, and then hung up.

 

Card walked quietly down the hall, watching the pools of colored late afternoon light cast from the stained glass windows above to his feet. It had been years since he had last walked this path along the halls of St. Catherine’s Home for Boys. A group of teenagers walked past him, talking quietly on the way back to their rooms. It reminded him of his time here, between the foster homes and before college. He was one of the few who, like those boys, had never been adopted. None of the foster homes had worked out, not even the one that he had shared with Brianna. The foster parents always felt that he was too cold and stand-offish. Once a couple had used the term “failed to assimilate” to describe him. The rest of the time, he had lived inside this building of white plaster and brick since his mother died, leaving him alone in the care of the Sisters, but it had never been his home.

He rounded the corner, stepping aside to allow two Sisters to pass. “Hello, Sister Darlene, Sister Tobie,” he quickly said as they neared him, hoping that they would just let him pass with a simple greeting. He was disappointed.

“Andrew! How nice of you to come by to see us,” the slender woman named Sister Darlene admonished brightly. She stopped completely and pulled the robe of the heavier set sister beside her. “Look, Tobie, its little Andrew. Hasn’t he grown so handsome?”

The two older Sisters fussed over him for a few moments, recalling his rambunctious childhood to themselves as they gleefully reminded him of every frog, bug, and prank committed, and how many times he had spent the entire evening atoning.

“Sisters, if you will please excuse me…?”

“Oh, yes! The Mother Superior wanted you to see her today, didn’t she!” exclaimed the jubilant Sister Tobie. “How terrible of us to keep you. Well, be on your way, shoo!” She gave him a little nudge and they turned to walk their own way. “And don’t be a stranger!” the sisters called in unison to his retreating back.

He made his way through the polished hallway until he reached the Mother Superior’s office. The door was open just a crack. He was about to knock when the sound of an unfamiliar voice came from the room. He realized that he had not been seen, and listened.

Sister Margaret Claire, head mistress and Mother Superior of St. Catherine’s, sat in her office fiddling with an ink pen. Across from her sat an older man, advanced in years with graying hair and kind, though wrinkled, features. Card listened in as Sister Margaret spoke, “He was brought to us after his mother had died. He was about four at the time. I doubt he even remembers it,” she put down the pen. “We raised him here, gave him the best education and discipline that we could. Then he went off to college, and left the Catholic Church,” She added disapprovingly. He didn’t take it too personally. He was used to the judgmentalism Sister Margaret so often displayed.

“Don’t forget to tell him about how you pray for my eternal soul every day,” Card answered from the doorway, making his presence clear. “I know I hear it often enough.”

“Oh, Card, how long have you been standing there? Come, have a seat,” inquired Sister Margaret.

“Long enough, Sister Margaret.” He walked in and sat in one of the hard wood chairs in front of the desk. “So, what’s all this about?” he asked impatiently. He was ready to leave.

“Dear, this is Xaras Laestrom. He was a friend of your father’s.” Xaras held out his hand, which Card reflexively shook in greeting.

“My, you look so much like your father,” he professed with an accent that Card couldn’t place. It almost sounded European, but it wasn’t one that he recognized.

“Is that so?” replied Card, in a more caustic tone.

Sister Margaret cleared her throat. “I’ll just leave you two to talk in private,” she declared as she rose from her seat.

“Thank you,” he replied blandly as she left. He looked at the wizened man in front of him and was at a loss for words.

He was very grateful when Xaras started the conversation. “I fear that I probably know more about you than you do about me.” He picked up his cup and took a sip of the chilling coffee. He crinkled his face and lowered the cup, running a finger over the edge. “Let me introduce myself again, formally. I am Xaras Laestrom, and I was indeed a very good friend of your father’s, as the Sister said.” A light steam began to rise out of the mug, barely discernible, and he took a sip. “Well, I’m sure that there are many questions that you would like to ask me. So lets begin, shall we?”

Card looked at the mug in Xaras’s hand, and dismissed it as a trick of the eyes. He couldn’t have seen steam rising from a mug that moments ago had been apparently cold. Besides, at the moment, all he really cared about was finding out why Xaras had been looking for him and his mother. He looked Xaras in his grey eyes, “Begin what?”

A look of remorse crossed over the old man’s face. “Your father passed away about twenty years ago, and on my honor, I am here to tell you about your inheritance,” he paused, “and yourself.”

It was too strange, Card thought. “I don’t remember much of my mother, but at least I can remember her face. So all I want to know right now, is who is this father that you keep talking about, and why should I even care that I had a father? My mother died alone in a hospital. How do I know it wasn’t his fault in the first place?”

Xaras sighed. “I should have known that this was not going to be easy.” He took a folded envelope out of his coat pocket. It looked very old and had a brown wax seal on the back. The image on the seal looked like a crest of some sort, but Card could not make out the image. “Your mother’s name was Mariah, correct?” Card nodded once. “I didn’t know her at all, but I had heard that she was a wonderful woman. Her absence makes telling you this even harder. I am sorry to hear that she had passed.” The older man sounded very sincere in that sentiment, with a sad frown on his face. “Your father told me much about her. His name was Zachariah Craden. They were both from a distant place called Mordiva. Have you ever heard of it?”

Card shook his head. “Never in my life. Where is it?” he asked.

Xaras handed the envelope to Card. Now that he could see it clearly, the image on the seal was a crest sporting the figure of a dragon.“Your father had,” he paused for a moment, “holdings in Ireland. I didn’t think you would have heard of it. Not many have, since it isn’t on any maps. In any case, I met your father during the war. He didn’t make it back.” He stopped and emptied his cup. “Go ahead and open it,” he said, gesturing to the envelope now in Card’s hand.

Card looked up at him. “What war? The only war I can think of twenty years ago is the Cold War. Was Ireland even in on that?” It was an honest question. Brianna would have known the answer, but Card had never been a world history buff.

Xaras sipped his coffee. “Missionaries,” He answered with one word. “Please, open the letter.”

Card sighed, guessing that the answer was reasonable enough for now, but he would be fact-checking later. He flipped the envelope over and ran a finger under the wax seal.  The paper he pulled out was yellowed with age and stained. It was a hand written letter.

To my beloved Mariah and my son, Andros,

It has been many years since I have seen your faces, and not a day goes by that I have not thought of you. If you are reading this letter, then that means that I have perished in a war from which I cannot escape. The lands belong to you, now, and I pray to the powers that you will hold them safe, and they you. Know that I have always loved you both and that I only regret leaving so soon.

I have entrusted this letter to a trustworthy and honorable friend. There is so much that I wish I could tell you, but time runs short. I pray that he finds you safe.

My heart is with you for eternity,

Zachariah

Card read the letter a few times over, unsure about how he felt about it. The words were so few, but they spoke volumes. Unfortunately, he had a hard time believing most of them. “Andros is my real name?” he asked.

The older man nodded. “Indeed. I am sure beyond reasonable doubt that you are Andros Craden, son of Mariah and Zachariah Craden, and now, the current Lord of Havendome Castle.”

Card looked at him for a moment, obviously shocked. “You have got to be kidding me,” he said in disbelief. “Being Irish would explain why my mom left me at a god forsaken Catholic church, so I can sort of buy that one. But a Lord? Don’t believe it. Sorry.”

Xaras sat back and sighed. “Tell me, how did you come to be here?”

It seemed like an odd segue, but Card put the letter back in the envelope and answered. “Well, I remember that my Mom was sick. She came here and the nuns took her in for a short while. She had told them my name was Andrew Card, and that she had no family. They put her in the hospital, and kept me while she was there.  She died, and I stayed here,” he finished weakly.

“You have no earlier memories than that? Like coming to America, perhaps?” Xaras inquired.

Card shook his head. “No, those are the earliest memories I have.” It wasn’t a pleasant memory, and not one that he really cared to share in detail. He remembered playing with other boys during free time and being pulled aside by a nun, and told that his mom had passed away. He never saw his mom again. They had not even taken him to the funeral. “Why did my mother come here? If she was from such an affluent family, why did she die penniless and alone in an American hospital?”

There was a knock on the door, and Sister Margaret came back in. “Prayer will begin soon, if you would care to join us,” she offered. It didn’t sound like a request so much as a declaration that they should.

Card gave her a half smile. “Sorry, sister, but it isn’t my religion anymore,” he replied. “Besides, I don’t think our business is over,” he added, looking at Xaras, who nodded in agreement.

Sister Margaret visibly fumed. "God is going to judge you, my Son. And it breaks all of our hearts to see you damning your soul in the eternal pit of Hell through your disobedience." She crossed herself and said a prayer under her breath.

Card rolled his eyes and stood up. “Don’t worry, Sister Margaret. I’m not going to interrupt your service, but I am going to visit my mother.” He held out his hand to Xaras. “It was nice to meet you, but I think that is my cue to leave. Feel free to join me, if you don’t mind talking in a cemetary.”

Xaras shook his hand and grabbed his cane to stand. “I would like to pay my respects as well, if you do not mind showing me the way.”

“Sure,” Card replied.

Sister Margaret stepped aside to let them pass, but told them, “I will be praying for God to show you the righteous path once more! Don’t stay lost forever!”

Card smirked, replying as he walked away, “Wasn’t that the whole point of me coming here? To be found?”

Xaras chuckled and followed him as they left the flustered nun behind. “She certainly is relentless in spreading her faith, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea,” Card replied with ire.

 

Card silently led Xaras through St. Catherine’s and out to the cemetery, contemplating his situation. His first instinct was to call up Brianna, which was exactly what he was going to do once he left. However, it was customary for him to visit his mother’s grave every time he came by the church, so he had to do that first. Besides, in a way it seemed fitting that he and Xaras would finish their conversation with her there, in a sense.

The daylight was fading away as they walked between the rows of angels, crosses, and markers. In the back surrounded by simple tombstones, Card stopped in front of a plain tombstone with only one thing etched into its surface, Mariah Card. There were no birth or death dates, and no epitaphs, simply her name.  He looked down at it in silence, hands in his pockets. Xaras pointed at the miniature rose bush planted next to it. “Was this from you?” he asked.

Card nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t been able to come by as often as I used to, so I planted it right before I quit being a mandatory catholic.” He looked at Xaras. The older man looked contemplative, and a bit enraged as he stared at the rose bush and his mother’s grave.

He saw the muscle in Xaras’s jaw clench before he spoke, “Andrew…”

“Card.” He interrupted. “I go by the name ‘Card’.”

“Card, then,” Xaras accepted with a nod. Card could see the apprehension on his face as he continued, “I have spent many years looking for you and your mother, but I never did learn the exact reason why she ran away with you.” He stepped forward and placed a hand on the tombstone. “She was an important woman. Her death should have been marked more grandly than this, though I don’t think that she could ask for any greater a tribute than roses planted out of love by her own son.” Xaras bent down, leaning heavily on his cane, and laid a hand on the smooth stone underneath the name. Card stared in confusion as a faint light shown around the edges of Xaras’ hand. He removed his hand and stood back, leaving behind the freshly etched crest of the Craden family. It was still glowing red.

“How…” Card managed to say in confusion, bending down to run his fingers over the new etching. It was real.

Xaras leaned against his cane, appearing a little tired. “I couldn’t resist. The queen’s grave was worth the extra use of power,” he sighed heavily and looked at the stunned Card. “Lad, there are a few things I need to tell you.”

2: Chapter Two

 Card sat in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. He could hear Xaras shuffling about in the living room. He had invited the old man back to his house after the cemetery, and was now waiting for Brianna to show up. He wanted his adopted sister around so that he could make sure he wasn’t going insane, because at the moment, he was almost certain that he was. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the day. He had seen Xaras do magic, real magic, not once but twice. He very easily dismissed the matter of the self-heating coffee, but he couldn’t explain away the crest on his mother’s grave, no matter how hard he tried. For years, he visited her grave and tended the rosebush and stared at its almost blank surface. Before his eyes, the old wizard had created a real and lasting etching of his mother’s family crest into the solid granite of the marker. He could not dismiss it.

And then there was the matter of his mother. He craved with all his being to learn the truth. For years he had been plagued with nightmares of things that he did not understand, and they were occurring more and more commonly these days. The darkness always seemed to be waiting for him in his dreams, taunting him with his inability to save whoever it was on the other side. He remembered a time when he was fourteen, when he and Brianna had shared a foster home. He had woken up screaming in the middle of the night, crying out for his mother. The darkness kept them apart, pulling him away from his mother, swallowing him whole until he could no longer see her. He screamed and clawed at the darkness, struggling to get a handhold that he could pull himself up on, while claws of darkness pulled him farther away. He awoke to the little arms of a ten year old Brianna, hugging him tightly around his neck and crying with him.

He felt as though his heart had been ripped in two by her tears. He had scared her and it was something that he could never forgive himself for. It was his weakness that he came to hate that night, more than anything.

It was too late for him to save his mother. However, there was a darkness that she had been running from, in real life, that seemed to be mimicked in his dreams. That much, he knew was real. His heart raced excitedly at the thought of returning and taking vengeance on the one who caused his mother’s lonely death. It was a hope that made the insanity of this day bearable.

There was a knock on the door. It was Brianna’s knock. She always used the same pattern. In the foster home, she would knock on his wall, and he would knock back with the rest of the pattern to let her know that he was still there. The people in that placement weren’t bad, but they were strict. After the incident with that first nightmare, the foster parents had enforced stricter bed time guidelines, and Brianna was no longer allowed in Card’s room after lights out. The knock symbolized to each other that they were not alone, and still okay.

He put down the coffee mug and went to the living room, walking past Xaras, to open the door. Brianna gave him a tight hug around his waist. “Card, whats up? Where’s the wizard?” she asked, pushing past him.

He laughed, pointing at Xaras, who had stood up and leaned forward on his cane. “Xaras, this is my sister, Brianna.”

The old wizard shook her hand, smiling. “Pleased to meet you, my dear. Card told me about you on the way here, and refused to talk about much else until you arrived, let me tell you.” Xaras leaned closer to her, still holding on to her hand while he looked  into her green eyes. “Well, I’ll be…” he said, seeming to come to some conclusion. Card cleared his throat, and Xaras released Brianna’s hand. “Forgive me, my dear, you rendered me speechless,” he grinned.

Brianna smirked. “Flattery will get you nowhere. I still think this whole thing is insane, and I’m just here to support Card in whatever way he needs it.”

Card smiled and looked at the clock. It was a little after seven, and the sun had already set. He really disliked the shorter days and longer nights. It made the day feel cramped and hectic, especially on a day like today when he had slept most of it away. He pointed to the chairs in the living room and invited them to sit. It was modestly decorated in a bachelor pad fashion, aside from the oddly placed bouquet of fake flowers that Brianna had put there to give the place a woman’s touch. The furniture consisted of mainly freebies he had picked up in college. It was all well worn and banged up, comfortable like a pair of old jeans. Xaras sat in the arm chair and Brianna took the love seat, leaving a space for Card.

The silence was palpable. Card stood there for a moment, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He sat down next to Brianna, not entirely sure what to do. Brianna was twirling her hair around her forefinger, a habit that she had ever since he had known her, and was looking at Xaras as if she was waiting for him to do something interesting. She smiled at Card when he sat down next to her, and then turned her attention back to the wizard. “Okay, so first order of business: determining who is crazy!” She said with probably a little too much pep.

The old man laughed. “My dear, I can assure you that none of us here are insane, though I can understand how it would seem that way to you.” He leaned forward, laying his hands on top of his cane. “Shall we dispense with the formalities and get on with the proof? Seeing is believing, or so I’ve heard.”

Card watched Brianna’s eyes light up in excitement. “Sure! Wouldn’t miss this for anything.” Card was glad that she was enjoying herself, but he looked at Xaras with some trepidation. The thought of the wizard casting spells in his home made him both anxious and worried. On one hand, his magic could be a fantastically performed hoax, and this whole thing could just go away as soon as the old man left, or it could be a truly magnificent display of power that removed all doubt, and put Card in a whole new echelon of problems.

He watched as Xaras pulled a yellow silk dandelion from the fake bouquet and placed it in Brianna’s hand. She gave him a half smile, the fake flower resting in her open palm, and then looked back at Xaras. The wizard picked up his cane and held it in the middle with his left hand, and then held his right hand over the flower. He traced his thumb over a spot on the cane, which for a brief moment glowed a dim red. He made a sign with his right hand and traced it in a pattern over the fake flower, saying a few words that Card could not understand. As he did this, the tip of his finger began to glow, and upon finishing the pattern, he touched the fake flower. Like a liquid pouring over over a surface, the light spread to the flower, engulfing it in a soft light.

In Brianna’s hand, the light-soaked flower seemed to liquefy and condense into one mass, smoothing out into a spherical shape. It pulsed and expanded to the size of a soft ball. Now indistinguishable from the silk flower it had once been, the light faded away from the clear sphere left behind. The only hint that it had ever been a flower at all was a small etching the size of a quarter on the sphere’s apex. As the magical glow faded, the inside of the ball filled with a chromatic mist.

Card exhaled a breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding, and heard his sister do the same. Brianna very gingerly cupped her fingers around the orb in her hand and looked at Xaras. “A crystal ball?” she quizzically asked  after a few tries.

The wizard plucked the ball out of her hand and grinned. “This, my dear,” he stated proudly, “Is how we in Taerne ‘video chat’.”

Card laughed. He couldn’t help it. The very idea of a wizard from some arcane world using modern jargon was beyond humorous. He felt slightly insane in his mirth, though, and completely justified in his acute insanity. Wizard. Magic. Taerne. It was the trifecta that put the nail in the proverbial coffin. At this point, laughing was the only thing keeping him from crying. He caught the worried look on his sister’s face and sobered quickly. He cleared his throat with a small apology directed loosely at Xaras. He gathered his thoughts about him and asked the next obvious question. “So, what is ‘Taerne’?” he asked, quickly adding with a glance to Brianna, “Assuming that we agree that no one is going insane here.”

 “Either that was the best friggin trick in the entire world, or he’s the real deal. I felt it change in my hand,” she added with emphasis. She held up her hands in surrender. “I’m willing to buy into this fantasy for a little while.” He felt a bit relieved at hearing someone who he trusted more that anyone else alive validate his sanity, even if it did mean that the world around him had become just that much more insane.

“Thank you,” Xaras said with a nod to Brianna. Card watched and listened intently while the wizard rolled the ball between his hands and told a story. “ ‘What is Taerne?’ you ask. Now that is not quite an easy question to answer but I will do my best.” He put the ball back in Brianna’s hand and sat back in the chair. “Ages ago, this world and Taerne were one in the same. You actually hear about that time a lot, usually in the form of folklore- in both worlds, mind you. Ever heard of fairy circles?” the old man asked, looking at Card as if he actually expected an answer.

Knitting his brow together for a moment, he replied flippantly, “Oh, yeah, sure. Me and Tinkerbell go out and look for them every time it rains.”

Xaras raised a wizened eyebrow at him, but continued his tale. “I was speaking anecdotally. My point, Card, is that there were races far older than mankind. Some were gentle, benign, but not all of them.” He smoothed his short white beard as he spoke, thoughtfully. “There were people who lived by magic, and people who feared it. Wars were fought over it, religions rose around it, it was persecuted, hated, and ultimately something had to change. Some say it was God, or gods, depending on your beliefs, some say it was a collection of powerful wizards, but finally the Rift occurred. The world was split in two, leaving Earth on one side and on the other side, Taerne. Everything and everyone of magic went to Taerne.”

“By choice?” Brianna asked.

“By necessity,” Xaras answered. “During those times, anyone left with the power of magic were hunted down, exterminated.”

She leaned forward and Card couldn’t help but notice the look of enthrallment on her face. “How long ago was this, really?”

Xaras sat back, once again stroking his beard. “I’m not sure about your time lines, but legend has the Rift occurring almost one thousand years before the first Drake War. Three ages have past since then, so I’d say nearly four thousand years ago.”

Brianna looked at Card with laughter lighting up her eyes. “That is where the dragons went, I guess,” She laughed. Card couldn’t tell if she was serious or sarcastic, but she was amused.

If it was sarcasm, Xaras did not pick up on he. He nodded sagely. “Indeed.”

Her eyes widened and she looked back at the older man. “You’re serious?”

He smiled and nodded, with a look at Card. “Indeed. There is a whole new world out there, and it’s yours.”

Card shook his head and stood up, crossing his arms over his chest while he paced to the back of the room. He turned and looked at Brianna. Her lips were curved into a smile, but her eyes looked straight into his, conveying the concern that he shared with her. Xaras looked at him as well, but he was not smiling. The older man held his cane in front of him, resting both hands upon its top. They both looked as if they were waiting expectantly for some decision from him.

He let out a slow and steady breath, trying to piece together his myriad thoughts. This was insane, but he knew that on some level he believed it. Otherwise, he would not have invited the old man into his home, would not have called Brianna. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Xaras, do you mind waiting here for a moment?” he asked the older man, who nodded, and then turned to Brianna. “Brie, I want to talk to you for a sec.”

She nodded and followed Card into the small kitchen. Card softly shut the door behind them, and then turned to Brianna. “So, what do you think?” He said.

She gave him a half laugh and then leaned against the counter. “Honestly?” she waved her hand dismissively, “I don’t know what to think. This is some pretty heavy stuff, but I think I might be buying in to it. If there was a trick, I can’t find it.”

He nodded and crossed the kitchen, getting down a glass and pouring himself some water from the purifier. He caught the way that Brianna was looking at him. It was a worried look, one that creased her brows and put a slight frown on her face. There was a bit of uneasiness to her, like she was barely managing not to fidget.

“What is it?” Card asked. He knew his sister well enough to know when she was afraid to ask him something.

She hesitated, then answered. “How are you taking the news about your parents?”

Card took several gulps of the cold water and put the empty glass on the counter with a resounding thud. “I’m taking it,” he answered.

She scoffed. “Yeah, right.” She pushed off the counter and stepped closer to him, putting her hands on his arms to make sure he’d look at her. “I know you, Card.” She waved a finger in his face. “You are going to bottle this up. Your dad died fighting, and mom ran away. It wasn’t enough that she skipped the country, she skipped the whole frigging dimension to get away from something. I know you have some strong feelings about this.”

She backed away from him and leaned back on the counter, giving him space to answer, which was something that he greatly appreciated. She was right.

“I’m having the nightmares again, Brie,” he said simply. She knew exactly which ones he was referring to very well. She was the only person in the world that he had ever shared that particular secret with.

“The ones about the woman and the chasm?”she asked for clarification, giving him the full look of worry. Card couldn’t blame her. It had been years since he’d even mentioned the nightmares. They had become old hat.

“I can’t help but feel that there is something out there. Like they are trying to tell me something.” He gave his sister a half smile and shook his head, hoping that she wouldn’t think he was crazy. The smile vanished and was replaced with a frown. “I want to know why my mother ran. I want to know how my father died. I don’t care about any of this other stuff. Wizards, magic, dragons, pixie dust, I don’t care if its real or not. I just want the truth.”

Brianna nodded her understanding. “No doubt. So what are you going to do?”

Card looked her in the eye and stood up straight. “The way I see it, I have two choices. I can send Xaras packing, wish him well and on his way, and go about my life. Or, I can go along with him for a bit. If he’s lying, its going to come out in the wash pretty quick, and if he’s not… well, I think one step at a time in that case.”

“And?” she prompted, waving her hand for him to continue.

“And I’m going to go with option number two.”

She smiled at him, and it was a huge comfort. He never could put his finger on what it was, but his sister was the only one who had ever made him not feel like a freak. “Then I’m coming with you,” she said, and the comforting feeling was gone.

“No, I don’t think so. No use in both of us loosing our jobs if this turns out to be a big waste of time,” he declined vehemently. “Besides, I have no idea what we’d be walking into if this is for real.”

The petite blond dug in her heals and stood up straight as well, facing him toe to toe. “You are the only real family I have, Card. If you think I’m going to let you go gallivanting to knew and exotic worlds without me, then you can just forget it. I’d never forgive you if you made me stay behind.” It wasn’t often that Card saw stubborn determination on Brie’s usually easy going face, but he was seeing it in full force now. He knew that she was not going to be swayed.

He sighed deeply and gave her a slight nod of his head. “Fine. Okay.”

She beamed at him and patted him on the arm as if to say “good boy”. “Besides, you are going to need me there for emotional support while you sort out this whole family affair.”

Card gave her a small, sincere smile. “Yeah, I guess you might be useful,” he teased.

She laughed, and then gave him a very curious look. “Hey, if you are a prince, and I’m your sister, does that make me a princess?”

His smile widened ever so slightly. “What do you mean? You’ve always been a princess.”

She hit him in the arm in retaliation. “Ready to go tell Xaras?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he answered. 

 

 

The next day, Card finished the last bit of packing, stuffing a few necessities into the side pocket of his vinyl backpack. He took a step back and stared at the bulging zippers with a frown. He wasn’t even sure that he would need any of the things that he had packed. Someone knocked on his bedroom door. “It’s open,” he called out still scowling at the bag.

Brianna opened the door and walked in, putting a small, seemingly handmade bag down on the bed beside his back pack. It looked like a burlap purse. She cocked an eyebrow at Card’s backpack and pointed to it while giving him a pointedly amused look. “Really, Card? We are going to a completely different world, filled with wizards, magic, and God knows what else, and you are going to take that?”

Card shrugged. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Its florescent orange, for crying out loud. You might as well tattoo ‘I’m outta this world’ on your forehead.” 

3: Chapter Three

She walked slowly down the small stone road, her simple skirts rustling in the small breeze.  Her long auburn hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, her soft green eyes swept the bushes for berries. Her name was simply Robyn, and she was a thief of some renown in Aithora. She liked her job.

However, she was tired of the same old routine. She had been working all the high roads from the newly formed free states of Merimyth to Aithora since she was a child. Cast out of a fallen home and left alone in the end, the only thing she could do was fend for herself. The road to Merimyth was shadowed on both sides by various sorts of trees, most of which had already started to lose their color to the chill of autumn. Usually she would wait in the trees until an overconfident noble passed, flashing the riches stolen through taxes. However, she had more chivalrous plans today. Someone had stolen from a close friend of hers, and no one steals from her friends.

She wasn’t alone today. Elspeth sat a short distance away, invisible from human eyes. She was a wood nymph, who, against her nature, had overcome the chronic shyness of her kind. “Robyn, there are three men around the corner. They look very nasty. May be them,” Elspeth said near a whisper. Robyn nodded and checked herself to be sure she looked feminine enough. I hate dresses, she thought with acridity. It had to be done, though. No one would expect trouble from a sweet young lady. She also made sure that the knife concealed in the long sleeves of her dress was completely concealed.

She picked up her basket and began to slowly stroll down the road, stopping here and there in the charade of picking berries. Finally, she saw the men in the corner of her eye. The leader signaled the other two to stay quiet as he sneaked up to her. She pretended not to see him.

“Hello, miss,” he said to intentionally startle her. She jumped and turned to feign surprise. “You know it’s dangerous for a pretty girl such as yourself to be wandering alone,” he said as kindly as he could. On his back, he carried a travel bag that probably held the object she was out to get. She smiled and readied her reply.

“Thank you for your concern, but you gave me such a start!” she reprimanded, placing her hand on her heart for effect. The other two men came closer, smiling at each other. This isn’t going to be easy, she thought as they took to either side of her. She backed up a step. “I was just picking berries for my mother’s pies.” She looked down at her half empty basket. “Um, I think I have enough now, if you’ll just excuse me”

The two men grabbed her arms before she could get the knife out of her sleeve. The leader took her basket and bowed dramatically. “I’d be honored to take you home to your ‘mother’, Robyn.” He grinned smugly.

This is definitely not good, Elspeth thought as she looked for a way to help her friend.

 

 

 

Card landed roughly on the ground. He felt like he had just fallen off of a cliff. His head swam a bit as he tried to stand up. “Perhaps I should have told you to watch that first step.” Xaras chuckled as he helped Card to his feet.

“What happened?” Card asked as he looked around, “And where are we?”

“I just gave you a one way ticket to Mordiva but somehow we ended up in Aithora,” Xaras frowned. “Travel between the realms is so unpredictable. We might not even be in the right time. As it is, we’re a good four weeks ride from Havendome Castle, by my guess.”

Card look at him as he regained his balance. “What are you?” he asked skeptically.

Xaras now wore a brown hooded robe, making him look wiser and more powerful than he ever had in slacks and a dress shirt. In his hand, he held a decorative oak staff, with a ball of some polished black gem inlayed into the top. “I am a wizard, your majesty. Glad to be of service,” he bowed slightly.

“I must have hit my head as well,” Card said to himself, feeling for a bump on his head. This is just great, he thought sarcastically. Either I’m going crazy or I’ve taken on the lead role in The Wizard of Oz. He looked at the world around him. They now stood on the side of a dirt road that showed many wagon trails and hoof prints. The surrounding trees stood tall and strong, although they were thinning in the fall season. A stream could be heard from farther in the woods and birds sand cheerfully to each other. “At least Oz looks nice.”

Xaras chuckled softly, “I thought you’d react this way.”

“Man, you don’t know the half of what I’m thinking right now,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I guess I should give you some proof of my authenticity, as if getting you here wasn’t enough,” he grumbles as he looked at Card’s clothing. He pointed his staff at him. “Nice outfit, by the way.”

“What?” He looked down at himself and found that his entire outfit had changed completely. He now wore a black jerkin over a white tunic, black breeches and leather boots and belt of the same color. “The hell!? I look like a 17th century pirate,” he commented as he looked up at Xaras.

“Don’t be so picky. That’s the style of the times here,” the old wizard smiled, patting Card on the back. “At any rate, you cannot go back, now. One way ticket. Only Faeries and a few other sylvan creatures can make that trip more than twice. The normal person doesn’t have enough magic to get them through more than twice without the person going insane.”

Card crossed his arms. “Great. So I can’t just click my heels together and chant ‘there’s no place like home’,” His frown deepened. Zephyr called as he flew down to his tense shoulder. “And you came along, also.” He stroked the falcon’s head with a slight smile. He felt better having at least one familiar face along for the trip.

Xaras shook his head, a slight sound of pity in his voice. “I don’t think that falcon will ever leave your side.” He took the staff in his other hand and used it as a walking stick. “Well, come on, then. We have a long road ahead of us, it would seem.”

“Fine,” Card replied as he joined stride with his mysterious companion. “Come, Toto, were off to follow the wizard.”

Xaras gave a small laugh as Zephyr flew ahead.

 

“Come now, Robyn. Did you really think you could fool old Hodge?” inquired the leader of the bandits. He smiled devilishly as he grabbed her chin. She vehemently twisted her head away from his clammy grasp.

“It was a thought,” she replied close to choking. ‘Hodge’ was not a well kept man by any means. His face was covered with pock marks and garrulous scars. He had no front teeth, save one, and his breath reeked of onion leeks. “Oh well. Guess I can’t fool you! So if you will just excuse me” she was cut off by a jagged dagger to her throat.

“You aren’t going anywhere, pretty,” the man to her left sneered. “I believe there’s a big price on your head, isn’t there boss?”

“Yes indeed, Robyn, a big price! And since you’re here, we intend to collect.” He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to him, her arms still captive by the other thugs. “But I was thinking of a little fun first, what do you say, Robyn?”

She spit in his face, disgusted to no end. “Go join the abyss, you sick son of a bitch.”

He wiped his face off, still closer to her than she would have been comfortable with. “Now that’s no way for a lady to behave,” he sneered as he replaced his dagger on her bare throat. “Now how about a little kiss.”

“I don’t think so.”

Hodge turned his head in time to meet a solid oak staff with his jaw. The two thieves looked in surprise as their leader fell to the ground. Behind his limp body stood a tall man dressed in black wielding a staff. He leaned on it and gave each man an even glare. “All right, gentlemen, I give you the choice; leave the lady peacefully, or fight me.” Both thugs looked at their unconscious leader then ran away in the opposite direction.

Robyn looked at her mysterious benefactor and smiled. “Thank you for your help.” She took the knife out of her sleeve and cut open the thief’s bag, removing a single jewelry box from the clutter of stolen goods. She stood back up and dusted herself off. “My name is Samantha,” she cordially introduced herself and curtsied. Even though he had just saved her life, she felt it best not to give her true name for a while. There was a price on her head, after all. She thought that perhaps she shouldn’t have stolen that army supply wagon last month.

“Card Card, at your service,” he bowed, though he looked as if he was new to the experience, though he quickly recovered. “This is Xaras Laestrom, and my fine-feathered friend here is Zephyr.” Robyn renewed her curtsy, just now noticing the old man. She felt awkward now. There was something severely odd about the two men. The sooner she left the better.

Xaras spoke now, looking around. “A young lady had told us that her friend was in trouble. I’m assuming she meant you, of course, but I don’t see her.” Elspeth smiled from the shadows behind Robyn.

“There you are Samantha.” She stepped out of her hiding place. “Sorry it took me so long to catch up. I had to go the long way to avoid the bandits.” It was a lie. The bandits had been tripping over each other to get away and could have cared less about her.  She met eyes with Robyn, and they both knew the truth. “Once again, thanks for the help. We’d like to stay, and chat, but we really must hurry back to Aris.”

Robyn breathed an unnoticed sigh of relief. “Yes, we really must be going. We’ve kept you from your journey long enough.”

“We’ll go with you,” Card offered, pointing to the unconscious man on the ground. “If this guy wakes back up, you may need our help again.”

Xaras nodded in agreement. “Besides, we are on our way to Aris ourselves.” He paused and looked at Robyn. “I’m sorry, but in my old age, I have forgotten your name.”

“It’s Sarah,” she said unthinkingly, distracted by the disappointment of their kind offer.

“Ah, just as I thought. A minute ago you said it was ‘Samantha’,” he stated casually. Robyn grimaced. Am I that suspicious? she thought. Card looked at Zephyr as he fluttered his wings in the silence. “Your reputation precedes you, Robyn Shadow-Thief, as mine should precede me, had I not been away these many years. I’m surprised you don’t know who I am.”

Elspeth spoke up for her speechless friend. “Who are you?”

“Wizard Xaras Laestrom,” he replied with a deep bow. “Come let us be on our way.” They had no choice but to follow.